


Welcome to Texas, Soldier

by kelios



Series: twitter prompts 2020 [6]
Category: The Boys - Fandom, Walker - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Use of painkillers, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:36:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelios/pseuds/kelios
Summary: Soldier Boy comes across Walker and a group of Rangers in a firefight and helps out, but is injured in the process. Walker learns more than he intended about Supes, and finds out that maybe one of them isn't so bad after all.
Relationships: Walker/Soldier Boy
Series: twitter prompts 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822414
Comments: 23
Kudos: 32





	Welcome to Texas, Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a quickie hurt/comfort bingo twitter fic. I forgot all about it until someone reminded me recently, and I decided to finish it. Things got just a little out of hand.
> 
> Thank you to @lovesdeans for reading through this and assuring me it made sense.

They're still taking fire when the Supe goes down, hard. He manages to take out the drug dealing scumbag he's fighting with a leg sweep and an elbow to the face that crushes said scumbag's nose halfway through his face, but he doesn't get up, doesn't try to crawl to shelter, despite the bullets kicking up dust around him. He just lies there, panting, face white with pain as he curses steadily under his breath. Cord's not the biggest fan of Supes--they cause more problems than they solve, in his opinion--but this guy had saved him and Miki and possibly a whole lot of other Rangers by showing up when he did, and Cord's not going to let him die. 

Cord gets his hand on the Supe's shoulder and _yanks_ , expecting the smaller man to slide smoothly across the warehouse floor. Instead he screams silently, body contorting in agony even though Cord can't see any bullet holes. He pulls again, fingers digging into the meat of the Supe's shoulder, and the man goes limp, with the predictable result of Cord ending up with a lap full of Supe.

A lap full of gorgeous Supe, he can't help noticing. Fair, golden skin with a smattering of freckles, lips that have Cord thinking about sin even in the midst of a firefight. His suit highlights thick, bowed thighs and broad shoulders, and Cord can attest that his ass is every bit as firm and plump as the suit makes it look on TV. 

He's still staring, awestruck, when thick sooty lashes flutter open to reveal the most beautiful green and gold flecked eyes Cord's ever seen. 

"You--you done ogling me yet?" The Supe's voice is thick with pain, rumbling deep and hoarse against and through Cord's body. He struggles to sit up and can't, face blanching even paler. There's a freckle on his lower lip, Cord notices distantly, and he's pretty sure he's never wanted anything as much as he wants to taste that tiny spot of color.

"Fuck, not again," the Supe mutters, collapsing back against Cord's chest. Cord's arms tighten involuntarily and the Supe cries out in pain. 

That gets through, breaks whatever spell this guy has cast on Cord. "Sorry," Cord stutters, loosening his grip. "Sorry, I--" 

"Don't worry about it," the Supe says wearily. "It happens."

"Is that your superpower?" Cord asks, then immediately feels like an idiot when the man in his arms huffs out a pained laugh. 

"You're not the first to ask that either," he says dryly. "Can you help me sit up?" 

Cord eases him up as gently as possible, maneuvering him to lean back against the shelving they're sheltering behind as he runs anxious hands over his shoulders and chest, looking for injuries that...aren't there. He does find that the Supe's chest is every bit as firm and well muscled as the suit makes him appear, and to Cord's dismay he can feel his cock stirring. At least the shooting has moved away from where they are, and while Cord feels bad about letting the rest of his team handle this clusterfuck, he has other things to worry about. 

"It's my arm," the Supe says through gritted teeth. "It's an old injury--nerve damage. Picks the worst fucking time to act up on a regular basis."

"You're Soldier Boy, aren't you?" Cord asks, frowning a little. "I thought one of your powers was regeneration. Shouldn't--"

“No you didn't. You thought my power was being preternaturally pretty, remember?" The Supe’s trying for flippant, but there’s a hard edge underneath his attempt at deflection that makes Cord think the other man has been called _pretty_ before, and not in a way he liked. Cord’s heard plenty of rumors about Homelander and the other Supes, and he feels a stab of sympathy for the other man. 

“Sorry,” he mutters again, his face flaming. 

“It happens,” Soldier Boy repeats. He starts to shrug and catches himself just in time, a little of the color he’d regained leaching away again at the quick flash of pain. “But to answer your question, pre-serum injuries are tricky. Some of them got wiped, some decided to stick around. Lucky me, I rolled intermittent debilitating nerve pain on the genetic dice.” 

“Is there anything I can do? Can’t exactly call 911 at the moment,” Cord says, feeling frustrated. He hates seeing anyone--especially the good guys--in pain.

“Pills,” Soldier Boy says, grimacing. “In the little pouch right above my left hip.”

Cord reaches for Soldier Boy’s utility belt carefully, trying not to jostle his injured arm any more than necessary, keenly aware of the toned muscle beneath his fingers. His eyes keep straying back to Soldier Boy’s face, beautiful even through the pain, and wishes he could see him without the mask. Without thinking he puts his hand on Soldier Boy’s thigh as he fishes around in the pocket for the pills, and Soldier Boy’s soft gasp doesn’t sound like pain this time. Cord offers him the pills, not removing the hand on Soldier Boy’s thigh as he meets the other man’s eyes. 

“No water, sorry,” he says, and bites back a groan when Soldier Boy’s lips part in invitation. Cord places one pill on Soldier Boy’s tongue, his thumb brushing that sinfully plump lower lip as the Supe’s throat works. The second pill follows the first, but this time Soldier Boy’s lips close around Cord’s fingers before he can pull them back, tongue sliding hot and slow over the pads of Cord’s fingers and kicking Cord’s heart rate into overdrive. And from the way the Supe’s eyes never leave Cord’s face, he knows exactly what he’s doing. He watches as Cord settles down next to him, shoulder to shoulder in case Cord needs to move them both in a hurry.

“If you really want to help,” Soldier Boy says quietly, “a distraction would be nice. It can take a while for the pills to kick in.” 

“Sure,” Cord says immediately, and tries not to think of all the ways he himself is already distracted right now. “Just tell me what you need.”

The injured Supe’s eyes immediately drop to Cord’s hands, splayed out over his thighs and not quite framing his half hard cock. 

“I think you know,” Soldier Boy says, low and rough. His tongue sneaks out to spitshine his lips and make Cord think about all the things he wants to do to that mouth right now. “Gonna make me beg?”

“I--” Cord feels a little dizzy, something about every ounce of blood in his body racing toward his dick at once. He clears his throat and tries again. “I think we’re on the same page here, but I’m real big on consent. Especially with an injured party on pain meds. So I’m going to need you to say it at least once for me. Pretty please.” 

Soldier Boy barks out a surprised laugh, covered up with flippancy again a second later. “Manners, here in the backwaters of humanity? Now that’s something you don’t see every day.” He tilts his head back against the shelves behind them, eyes heavy lidded and dark as he spreads his legs wide in open invitation. “Please, Mr. Texas Ranger, will you come over here and fuck me til I can’t remember my name, let alone what hellhole state I’m in or how bad my shoulder hurts?”

His condescending tone almost makes Cord say no. Supes have a reputation for being assholes, pretty or not, and as a general rule Cord is a big fan of pretty is as pretty does. But there’s something about Soldier Boy, some half-glimpsed vulnerability, that makes Cord want to peel back some of those layers and see if there really is a soft, gooey center inside. Of course that could just be Cord’s dick talking, but right now he’s willing to take a chance and find out. 

“Well now,” Cord drawls. He turns until he can settle across the Supe’s lap, leaning over him and letting the other man feel exactly what he’s asking for. “Since you asked so nicely and all…” He ducks his head, hands on the shelves behind them, until his breath is just stirring the fine hairs at the Supe’s temple. “What’s your name, soldier? I like to know who I’m fucking before things get too far.”

Soldier Boy shivers underneath him, arching up a little. “Did--did you miss the whole mask and secret identity thing, cowboy?” he asks, breathless and a little pissed off. “Come on, just fucking get on with it.” 

Cord doesn’t move, doesn’t give into the silent demand for friction, for contact. “Tell me your name, or I’m gonna go sit across the room until the calvary gets here.” His lips brush the delicate shell of Soldier Boy’s ear, just a hint of teeth on the tender lobe, and the Supe swears like a sailor. 

“Jensen,” he says at last, growled into the heated space between them. “My name is _Jensen_.” 

“See, that wasn’t so ha--” Cord’s teasing snark is cut off by a hand twisted in the front of his shirt, the crash of soft pink lips against his own as Jensen shoves himself up with a low, pained cry. 

It’s hard to tear himself away but Cord does it, leaves that gorgeous mouth regretfully with small, consoling kisses as he gets a hand on Jensen’s chest and pushes him back. 

“Don’t,” he orders quietly. “Don’t hurt yourself. I’m gonna take care of you, Jensen, I promise.” He feels the soft, hurt sound Jensen makes vibrate through his hand and he kisses him again, softer this time. Longer, without the hint of violence that Jensen seems to be expecting, and Cord finally gets to taste that teasing freckle, warm and wet when he suckles at Jensen’s bottom lip until it’s swollen and red. The way the Supe opens up to him so hesitantly and cautiously changes everything about what Cord had planned, soft dazed green eyes staring up at him as Cord reaches behind Jensen’s head and tugs the mask away to reveal how incredibly beautiful the man beneath him truly is. 

“Don’t,” Jensen whispers, turning his head. “Don’t look at me, don’t pretend--” 

Cord kisses him again, the hand on Jensen’s chest coming up to cup his cheek instead, thumb smoothing over the golden skin and the faint red mark from the mask. “You’re beautiful,” Cord tells him, and Jensen shakes his head, his whole body trembling under Cord’s hand. Twists that incredible mouth into a trembling sneer. 

“‘You’re beautiful,’” Jensen mocks, voice shaking. “‘Let’s see those cock sucking lips, Jensen. Bet you look pretty when you cry, Jensen’.” His mouth turns down and he fumbles at Cord’s jeans with his good hand. “Let’s just get this over with, okay? I’ll feel better, you’ll get what you want. Even the score, nothing left between us.”

“Jesus.” Cord sits back, feeling a little sick. “Is that what you think this is? Payment for helping you out?” 

“Isn’t it?” Jensen shrugs lopsidedly, eyes wet but defiant. “It’s what everyone wants, cowboy. You were panting for it from the moment you got your hands on me. Besides, the endorphins released by orgasm help calm the nerves in my shoulder or some shit like that. That’s what the doctors said when they were fucking me, anyway.” 

Cord knocks Jensen’s hand away, re-fastening the button on his jeans that the Supe had managed to undo one handed, shocked by the sudden venom in the other man’s voice.

“No fucking way,” Cord says flatly. “That’s not the way we do things here. That’s not the way _I_ do things. You just want to get off, you’ve got another hand. Use it.” Cord backs off as far as he can get and still be sheltered, doing his best to ignore the surprised look on Jensen’s face. 

“Is this some kind of joke?” Jensen asks incredulously. “Are you actually fucking serious.” 

“As a heart attack,” Cord says shortly. He pulls out his phone, cursing when he sees the dark, shattered screen. The sounds of gunfire have either ceased or moved out of earshot, but he doesn’t know how long it will be until the building is cleared, or until it’s safe to move. He risks a glance at Jensen and sucks in a sharp breath. The skintight suit was built for emergencies, it seems, and Jensen has worked open the flap in the front. His dick and balls are out and he’s got one hand wrapped around the hard flesh, moving slowly. Cord wants to look away but can’t, mesmerized by the fumbling glide of Jensen’s hand, just this side of rough, and the slick, dirty sounds of skin moving over wet skin. When he tears his eyes away they land on Jensen’s face, which--not helping. The Supe’s head is thrown back, hair spiky with sweat and dust from being under the skullcap mask. Those sinful lips are parted, the lower one red and full where his teeth have sunk in, and his eyes are hot and dark where they’re fixed on Cord. He moans when he catches Cord watching him, low and filthy and so fucking hot. 

“Could be you,” Jensen gasps, squeezing his fingers under the head until another bead of precome wells up. “Could be--could be over here fucking my mouth--could be over here with my hand on _y-your_ dick instead.” His hand slips down to tug at his balls and he moans again. “Not--not too late.” 

Cord shakes his head and closes his eyes. He’s still rock hard in his jeans and he’d give just about anything for this to be happening under different circumstances. But it’s not, and he’s not--

“Goddammit, will you just get over here?” Jensen sounds desperate now, and Cord does his best to bite back a groan. “I can’t--I’m no good with my left hand, you fucker. Can’t--goddammit--can’t fucking get there by myself.” 

Cord opens his eyes at that, and yeah, Jensen looks wrecked. Sweat on his face and temples, pooled in that little hollow at the base of his throat that Cord’s wanted to lick since approximately three seconds after he got a good look at him. His dick is angry and red, balls drawn up tight and hard as he tries to find a decent rhythm and can’t. 

“Please.” It’s quiet and needy, different from Jensen’s previous tirade, all the broken, empty bravado gone now. “It really does help with the pain, and you made your point. I won’t hold it against you.” 

Cord bites his lip, weighing his options: leave the man who saved his life in agonizing pain, or help him out with sex that he doesn’t actually want from Cord. 

“Please don’t make me beg.” The way Jensen’s voice breaks throws a switch in Cord’s brain, and he’s back across their shelter kneeling next to the injured man before he even realizes he’s decided. 

“Hey, shh, I’ve got you,” Cord says soothingly. He wraps his hand around Jensen’s and guides him into a smoother rhythm, judging what the other man wants by the sounds he makes and the way he arches into Cord’s hand as best he can without hurting himself more. 

“Fuck--” Jensen moans when Cord tugs gently on his balls the way he’d seen Jensen doing earlier. “Fuck, I’m gonna--” He turns toward Cord blindly, and Cord kisses him without thinking, working him through the aftershocks as he slowly comes back down from the high before sitting back.

“Better?” Cord asks. He pulls a couple of wetnaps out of his back pocket, souvenirs from one of his many fast food lunches that he keeps around for situations that are usually _not_ this. Jensen nods muzzily as Cord cleans them both up and struggles to put his suit back to rights, then points at the pile of used napkins. 

“Do this often?” he asks, smiling dopily, and it’s clear that whatever else might be happening, the pain meds are starting to have an effect. 

“Usually it’s blood,” Cord says dryly. “But at least I had them.” 

Jensen reaches for Cord, tugging him back down to kneel next to him. “I can take care of that,” he says, voice slurred as he paws at Cord’s crotch again. “Don’t mind. You’re nice. Not like the others.” 

“Maybe next time,” Cord says firmly, then cocks his head at the sound of footsteps approaching. “Hey, let’s get you up and over here,” he says quietly. He helps Jensen carefully stand and walk a few feet, easing him back down and replacing his mask before returning to wipe away the evidence of his _help_. He has a feeling Jensen wouldn’t want anyone to know what happened, and he knows _he_ doesn’t want it to be common knowledge. He’s tying his overshirt around his waist when a familiar figure rounds the corner. 

“Cord!” Miki sounds anxious as she approaches, followed by a tall man in a blue suit similar to Jensen’s--Homelander. “Shit, man. We saw the Supe go down and thought you were done for but we got pinned down and couldn’t make it back. Good to see you’re all right.” 

“Yeah, we’re fine. Soldier Boy’s shoulder is acting up, though. He’s going to need an ambulance.” Cord avoids looking at Homelander, the odds and ends of what Jensen had said piecing together in his mind in ways that might not be good for his continued health if he has to look at the well known Supe much longer. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Homelander booms cheerily. “We Supes take care of our own. I’ll see to it he gets the help he needs.” 

Miki looks at the nearly unconscious man lying on the floor and back at Homelander uncertainly. “Are you sure? He looks--”

“Trust me, ma’am. I’ve seen this before. He’ll be fine, up and running around fighting crime again in no time!” He beams that familiar, eerily empty smile at her and nods cheerfully. “Maybe you can go help organize the relief efforts for the rest of the wounded--I’m sure your partner can give me any help I need with my wayward buddy here.”

Miki shoots a cautious look at Cord, instincts kicking in and telling her that something is _wrong_ , then shrugs when he nods. “Sure. Catch you later, Cord.” 

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Homelander laughs and nudges Cord’s arm. “Looks like you hit the jackpot, my friend. How was he?” 

“Pardon?” Cord doesn’t want to believe what he’s hearing. 

“No need to play shy,” Homelander says. “I know all too well how he gets when that shoulder of his acts up and he gets a little loopy.” He studies Jensen closely. “That mouth of his is a fucking national treasure, isn’t it? I see you worked him over good, you two must have had a hell of a time before we got here.” 

“We did nothing of the sort,” Cord says stiffly. “We don’t hold with that kind of behavior here in Texas, sir. Not in the Rangers and not under my watch. We don’t take advantage of anyone--man or woman--when they’re wounded or hurt.”

Homelander scoffs, slinging an arm around Cord’s shoulders. “Relax, Ranger. It’s not gay when they’re as pretty as Soldier Boy here.” Cord shrugs the offending arm off his shoulders and moves to stand between the fallen Supe and Homelander. 

“I _am_ gay,” he says coldly. “Or at least bi. And we do not condone rape in my unit or anywhere in the Rangers. Period.” 

Homelander regards him thoughtfully, and the bright malice in his eyes makes Cord shiver. “Well, if you didn’t give him what he was asking for, I’m sure I can find a volunteer or two willing to take care of it back at our hotel. Step aside, Ranger. This is our business.” 

Cord stands his ground. “No, sir. I will not allow this man to be taken somewhere and abused.” He keeps his voice steady with an effort, then shouts. “Miki! Little help over here!” 

Miki appears in seconds, leaving Cord to wonder how much she’d heard. “What’s up, boss?”

“We’re taking this man to the hospital for observation,” Cord says, ice in his voice and his veins. “Homelander agrees that’s for the best after all.” 

“Fine.” The Supe turns on his heel and walks away, rage simmering in a dark cloud around him, leaving Cord and Miki to wrestle Jensen to his feet. 

“Wha--Oh, it’s you.” Jensen smiles woozily at Cord, then looks around warily. “Where’s Homelander? Wasn’t he here?” 

“He had to leave, so we’re taking you to the hospital,” Cord says reassuringly. “You’ll be released when the pain meds are out of your system.” 

That snaps Jensen out of his daze somewhat. “Hospital?” he says slowly. “I don’t know--”

“It’s for the best,” Cord says firmly. By this time they’ve reached the med station, and Cord climbs into the back of the ambulance with the injured Supe. The EMT starts to object, then just shakes his head when he sees that it’s Cord. 

“You know, we have policies for a reason,” the medic mutters under his breath, but he doesn’t object further. 

“He just needs observation,” Cord says mildly. “In fact, you can ride up front if you’d like. We’ll be fine back here.” 

The EMT takes another look at Cord’s expression and moves to the front seat. 

“Why are you doing this?” Jensen asks bleakly as the engine starts and the sirens begin to wail. He’s silent for a few minutes, thinking. “You’re not saving me from them. I have to go back sooner or later.” He shifts on the gurney, rolling his head as though to clear away the drug induced cobwebs. “And I didn’t ask to be saved anyway. I don’t need your help.” 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Cord acknowledges, and sighs. “Look. The truth is, I don’t like a lot of what I hear on the downlow about these Supes in The Seven. Something’s just not right. But I also know that even though you weren’t here for a fight that didn’t stop you from stepping up and stepping in anyway. You probably saved my life, and Miki’s too.” 

“That’s my job,” Jensen points out. “It was just good for business to help out when I saw trouble. Good PR.” The slight slur in his words doesn’t hide the bitterness in his voice, and Cord takes note. 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Cord repeats. “But either way, I don’t forget things like that, and neither will she.” He regards Jensen thoughtfully. “You know, there’s never been a Supe in the Texas Rangers before. And out here? People are more inclined to look at what you do than who you are or who you were. We’re always looking for men and women who are ready and willing to do good.” He digs his wallet from his back pocket, pulls out a card and tucks it into the pocket on Jensen’s suit where he’d found the painkillers earlier. “When you’re ready, come downtown. We’ll find a place for you.” 

The doors open and the EMT looks sternly at Cord, who raises his hand in surrender and gets out of the way. He turns back to Jensen before he leaves and smiles at the injured Supe. 

“Just tell them Cordell Walker sent you.”


End file.
